Forbidden Love The new and better version
by BlackForestRider
Summary: Same plot,better version.Rebecca Potter runs away after being negleted by her parents,when her brother is mistakened to be the BWL.When she meets the now young Voldemort her life is changed.But will their love survive when she must go return?Wait and see.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything, except the character of Rebecca.**

**A.N. This is the improved version of the original Forbidden Love. This is all due to Maid of Imladris requesting to beta the story. I know I ended up with a few comments over my poor grammar. **

**So with out further interruptions. The new improved Forbidden Love.**

Forbidden Love  
Chapter I: Escape  


Rebecca Potter sat in a corner of the living room, cradling her bruised arm  
and trying not to cry. She just received another beating from her father- but  
she hadn't done anything wrong. Harry, her younger brother, had broken  
another one of her mother's prized china dolls and blamed it on Rebecca. As  
usual, her parents had blamed her, and her father (who had been already  
furious from a bad day at work) had taken his anger out on his only daughter.

Rebecca wiped away her tears, and slowly climbed to her feet. Her parents  
had taken Harry out, leaving Rebecca alone. Again. This time, though, it was  
different. This time Rebecca wasn't going to wait around for them to  
return, and then wait quietly for whatever punishment they were going to dish  
out. She was leaving.

She started to climb the stairs to her too-small room, thinking hard.  
She'd been planning her escape for ages now, and even though she didn't  
actually have an idea of where to go, she knew that she could find somewhere  
that she could get a job or stay for a while. She padded into her room and  
began packing. She managed to keep the small space immaculate almost all the  
time, which made it easy to find what she needed quickly. She didn't have a  
suitcase like her parents or Harry, just a luggage hold-all that her Uncle  
Remus had given her years ago, but she didn't mind. A suitcase would be far  
heavier, and prove more awkward to carry. She grabbed all her clothes (almost  
all of which were ripped or too small), folding them and packing them as  
neatly as she could into the bag. Then, she packed her writing stuff,  
including her parchment, quill, ink, and last of all grabbed her wand. Not  
that she could do many spells- she was only ten, after all, and her parents  
hadn't really bothered to teach her much, obsessed as they were about making  
sure that Harry knew every single spell in existence.

She glanced at the clock and realized that her parents and Harry would  
undoubtedly be back soon. Quickly, she zipped up the hold-all, put her wand  
in her back pocked, and went into her parents' room, moving as speedily as  
she could. Rebecca walked over the small cabinet on the east side of the room  
labeled 'Funds' and knelt down beside it, pulling out her wand.

'Alohomora,' she said clearly.

The cabinet unlocked and Rebecca opened it. The Alohomora charm had been  
Rebecca's first successful charm when she had got her wand, not that anyone  
had really noticed. Mr. Ollivander had persuaded her parents to get her a  
wand when they were buying Harry one, and she'd never regretted it. At  
first, her parents had said she hadn't needed a wand so early, but the kind  
(if slightly creepy) wandmaker had managed to convince them otherwise. She  
wasn't allowed to use it often, but sometimes she would steal one of Harry's  
numerous books (he never read them anyways) and practice late into the night.  
She still didn't know much, as it was hard to lean magic self-taught, but  
she did her best.

Rebecca sighed. She hated how her parents ignored her, favoring her twin  
brother over her almost all the time. She wished that they could see her as a  
person, not just as her brother's shadow, but she knew that it was hopeless.  
They pampered Harry, focusing all their attention on him because they though  
he was The-Boy-Who-Lived. They believed, along with every other witch and  
wizard, that it had been Harry who had defeated Voldemort nine years ago. But  
Rebecca knew better.

She could only vaguely remember that night, but she dreamt of it almost every  
night, and even nine years later, she could still remember glowing red eyes  
and maniacal laughter, and a clear green light speeding towards her,  
enveloping her… it was she who had deflected the Avada Kedavra that night.  
She still didn't know how, but she was glad. Otherwise, she'd be dead, and  
despite the sadness that she often felt about her circumstances, she was very  
glad to be alive.

Unfortunately, the whole Wizarding world thought that there was no way a girl  
could have deflected a spell like that. It didn't help that Harry's scar,  
which was much flashier and noticeable than her own, had led Dumbledore to  
claim that it was Harry who had defeated the Dark Lord. The Wizarding world  
had celebrated their young 'hero', and Lily and James were determined to  
care for and protect their son, desperately working to make sure that he would  
be able to defeat Voldemort if he ever returned, and pampering him constantly.  
Over time, Rebecca had faded into the background, overwhelmed by her  
brother's glory, and all too soon she had become just the forgotten  
'second twin'.

Rebecca pushed her thoughts away, cursing herself mentally for spending so  
much time dwelling on pointless thoughts. Looking inside the cabinet, she saw  
four neatly labeled drawers. One said 'James Potter'; the one beside it read  
'Lily Potter', the one below James' said 'Harry Potter', and the final one  
said 'Rebecca Potter.' Rebecca pulled open the drawer with her name on it. She  
knew there was quite a bit in there. Her parents put 2 sickles in each month  
since she'd been born. Since Rebecca had never used any of the money that she  
had in there, she thought she must have about…14 gallons and 12 sickles.  
She had always been decent at maths.

Rebecca collected the money, counting it into her bag. She actually had 24  
gallons and 12 sickles. She guessed that her parents had put an extra gallon a  
year in for birthday and Christmas. They usually just gave her some 'new'  
clothes, but perhaps they had put some money in there for her, as well. She  
thanked God that her parents had put a charm on the box, meaning that money  
was added when it had been arranged. Otherwise, she doubted they would have  
remembered to give her the allowance every month- and she certainly wouldn't  
have tried to remind them.

She strode out of the room, swinging her bag up over the shoulder of her good  
arm. Her bruised arm still smarted a bit, though it didn't hurt as much as  
it had at first. Her bag weighed more than she'd originally thought, buts she  
was strong enough from her various chores that she could lift it, though not  
without some difficulty.

She reached the front door, flinging it open to reveal a brightly shining  
sun. She checked there was no sign of her parents or brother, and when she  
was sure it was all clear, she looked once more back at the house and walked  
out, closing the door behind her. Rebecca Potter turned around, walked down  
the pathway, and headed down the street, determinedly not glancing back.

**They we have it the first chapter. Please review, if not for then for Maid of Imladris.**


	2. Chapter 2

Forbidden Love  
Chapter II: Encounters  
  
Tom Riddle walked down the tree-lined street, secure in his 'normal'  
identity. He only called himself Lord Voldemort in front of his followers- if  
he would chance to run across a muggle or a strange wizard, he would simply  
use his given name. There were very few people in the world that could  
connect the young, handsome man named Tom Riddle to the vicious, cruel Lord  
Voldemort. The only things that could possibly distinguish him to a normal  
person were his blood-red eyes, but even those were easy enough to conceal.  
Glamour charms did come in handy sometimes, after all.

He had no idea where he was, not that he particularly cared. He'd apparate  
back to the small village near his current home and walk the rest of way once  
he got bored and decided to return. It was routine for him to walk, sometimes  
for hours, and then apparate back to his home. He had never bothered with  
such things before his fall, but now he used the time to relax himself, to  
think and plan. He smirked slightly as he thought of the amount of trouble  
his Death Eaters and the Ministry managed to cause him, wondering slightly at  
the fact that he hadn't gone mad a long time ago. Well…hadn't gone mad  
since he had returned, at any rate.

Tom was consistently amazed at the sheer stupidity of the Ministry. Oh, some  
of the people that worked there were smart enough- there were a couple Aurors  
that had caused him no end of trouble in previous years- but the organization  
as a whole was simply idiotic. He had been staying at Riddle Manor for the  
past eight years, not even bothering to change bases occasionally, and he and  
his followers had still never been found.

He had just turned a corner onto another street when someone ran into him.  
Tom stumbled back, but remain standing, which was more than could be said for  
whoever it was that had bumped into him. Glancing down, he saw a small girl  
looking up at him, face unreadable. She was obviously quite young, but her  
face was hard. Masking his surprise, Tom smiled charmingly.

"Here, let me help you up," he said, offering the strange girl a hand.

The girl looked at him cautiously for a moment, but took the proffered hand  
and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The girl was reasonably light, Tom  
noted, watching as brushed off her jeans and re-settled the bad she was  
carrying on her shoulder. The girl looked vaguely familiar, although he  
couldn't place her.

He glanced at the bag she was carrying- some sort of muggle carrying aid, it  
looked like. The bag was quite full; the drawstrings couldn't even be drawn  
fully together at the top. "Going somewhere?" he asked, mildly curious.

"I don't that that's really any of your business," the girl replied  
coolly, voice emotionless.

Tom raised an eyebrow at that, slightly taken aback by the girl's tone.  
Most children her age would giggle and stutter and act foolish, but she did  
nothing of the sort. She spoke with a tone that wouldn't have seemed out of  
place on one of his Death Eaters.

"You know, most girls your age wouldn't be able to devise such a tone,"  
he said calmly, a slight smirk on his face.

The strange child shrugged. "I'm not like most girls."

The girl was beginning to intrigue Tom even more. Something told him there  
was more to this girl than met the eye- in a way, she reminded him of himself.  
Tom opened his mouth to ask where the girl was going, but shouting from a  
nearby house distracted him. The girl whirled around and gasped, expression  
frantic.

"I've got to go," she said brusquely, and ran off.

Tom looked back at the house where the shouting had come from, curious about  
what had provoked such a strong reaction from the girl. As he watched, two  
figures emerged. One was a man with messy black hair and glasses, and the  
other was a woman with vibrant red hair and distinctive features.

"Damn!" Tom muttered, tensing. It was the Potters.

Glancing around, he realized that he had strayed into Godric's Hollow- the  
one neighborhood that he wanted to avoid.

Tom turned around, and began walking quickly in the opposite direction,  
hoping to avoid a confrontation. The last thing he needed was the Ministry  
sweeping down on his because of the deaths of two of the most famous people in  
the Wizarding world. He turned a corner and walked into the shadows behind a  
small shop. He was just about to apparate away when he saw the girl that he  
had run into earlier leaning against the same wall he was, catching her  
breath. Now, though, he recognized her as the Potters' daughter- Rachel,  
maybe, or Rebecca. That was it! Rebecca Potter.

She was the dangerous one. She was the one that had defeated him, defeated  
Voldemort, that night so long ago. She had been his downfall and his  
salvation. It was because of her that he was the way he was now. He briefly  
considered what to do. It would be easy enough to kill her now, and eliminate  
the danger she might be to him in the future, but that would leave him with  
the same difficulty killing the older Potters would. Perhaps…

He smirked and walked over to the girl, satisfied with his on-the-spot plan.

Rebecca was leaning against a wall, catching her breath. She could have  
continued running if she needed too, but she wanted to be ready to flee  
quickly if she had too. If she was lucky, perhaps her parents wouldn't even  
see her. She started to her feet as a shadow fell over her, snapping her head  
up only to come face-to-face with the man she had run into before.

"You?" she asked incredulously. What on earth was he doing?

"Yes, me," the man replied.

"What do you want?" Rebecca asked. She was wary, but kept the fear out  
of her tone, sounding as emotionless as she could. She didn't want to give  
this strange man any reason to think that she was afraid.

She found it easier to try and act mostly emotionless around people she  
didn't know. She knew it made people think she was odd, perhaps even  
slightly off in the head, but she didn't mind. She mostly kept to herself  
and didn't talk much to anyone unless she had to- less punishments, she had  
found; fewer awkward encounters with people who would start at the realization  
that The-Boy-Who-Lived had a twin sister. It was easier that way. If she  
didn't care about people, she had realized early on in her life, she  
wouldn't get hurt.

The man spoke again. "Actually, I was wondering where Miss Rebecca Potter  
was going, and why she was running from her parents in the first place," he  
said casually, as if they were having an everyday conversation.

Rebecca froze. How the bloody hell did this man know who she was? She  
stared at the man, eyes wide, trying to think if she had ever seen him before.  
Something about his seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't tell why.  
She had never seen this man before in her life!

"Who are you?" she asked, moving one had slowly towards the pocket that  
held her wand.

"Answer my question first," the man responded with another smirk.

Rebecca threw all caution to the wind. "I'm going because I hate them  
and want to get away," she said bluntly, staring at the man and waiting for  
his reaction.

"Interesting," the man said, tilting his head to one side slightly.

"And you are…?" Rebecca asked, growing more wary and irritable by the  
second.

"Tom," the man said simply. Rebecca was about to ask his surname when  
she heard an all-too-familiar voice shouting, quite close by.

"Rebecca Louise Potter, you get back here now!" her father shouted.

Rebecca swore colorfully, glancing around only to realize that there was  
nowhere to run.

Tom sniggered. "Not many girls your age would have such  
a…colorful…vocabulary," he commented.

"I already told you that I'm not like most girls," Rebecca snapped,  
sick with worry at the idea of getting caught.  
She reached to pick up her bag from where she had dropped it on the ground,  
but was beaten to it. Tom had picked the bag up and was weighing it in his  
hand.

"Give me that," Rebecca ordered frantically. The shouting was getting  
closer.

Tom looked at her calculatingly, then offered her his had. "If you want to  
get away from them, take my hand," he said.

Rebecca stayed frozen for a long moment. Could she actually trust this  
man?

"Rebecca, get back here. Now!" her father thundered. She glanced over  
to seem him standing on the street corner not a hundred feet away, her mother  
beside him. Both looked livid.  
She made up her mind and grabbed Tom's had. The next instant, she felt a  
tug at her navel, and she realized with a sickening jolt that Tom had  
apparated.

For the longest time, there was nothing but swirling darkness.


End file.
